CODE: Red
by TheSpanishBanana
Summary: With a breach in the CIAs security system, and the leads pointing to MI6, agents are sent out to England to investigate. Agent Alfred F. Jones (CIA) is ordered to follow Agent Arthur Kirkland (MI6); a prime suspect. But when a foreign organization plots against them, can the two unlikely agents overcome all suspicions and pull together? Or will their governments fall? USUK, etc. ;)


**I'm back~! And with a new story! Which I hope you guys will like…**

**This is basically a cute USUK story that came to me on Holiday whilst I was on one of the beaches of le Isle of Wight. Crazy, right?! Aha~. But I digress. For those who are waiting for an update on 'Finland's Hectic Christmas 2012', trust me it's coming out soon;) So stay with me!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. With the exception of the plot. **

**Anyway, first time writing spy material, or indeed USUK, so I hope it's satisfactory!**

**Enjoy mis amigos!**

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Agent Alfred F. Jones grinned softly as he took a sip of coffee. It was a beautiful Monday morning in the heart of Washington DC, and his spirits were high. Leaning back in his black leather office chair, he glanced out of the large window situated to his right; the expanse extending across the entire wall, giving him a magnificent view of the bustling city below from the 8th floor of the registered building. Taking another sip of the hot, steaming beverage, he sighed in content. It wasn't often he had breaks, so he was going to make the most of this one. But all too soon, he was broken out of his trance by the recognisable '_ping_' of his laptop, signalling he'd received an email.

He groaned silently, irritated that the pleasant silence had ended. Swivelling around, he gently placed his mug beside said appliance and typed in his password. Instantly, and email pooped up in the left corner, and clicking on the flashing icon, he groaned again as he realised it was from his boss, 'M'. He sat back, momentarily considering not opening the message in favour of enjoying his break. Sighing, he knew that would be a mistake, as the content could be a matter of life and death, and the American was not going to risk that. Ever.

You see, Alfred's job wasn't the everyday-office-bloke one. Oh no. He worked for the government of the USA, a well-known-but still secret-organisation known as the CIA. Their goal was to protect America, and every single (legal) citizen inside its borders, no matter the cost. Alfred was one of many agents for the CIA, and a high up one at that. He'd only been there for three years, but he'd passed training without a sweat, and every mission he'd been out on had been successful. He was famous within the organisation, but not only for his skill. He was an outgoing lad, to put it simply. A true American spirit, as 'M' had pointed out, and his morals were ones of loyalty and justice to his country. Not to mention, he wasn't exactly bad looking either. With tousled, honey blonde hair, lightly tanned skin (from all the time spent on the field, no doubt), a well-toned body and baby cerulean blue eyes behind simple but designer frames, he was quite the catch. Men and women alike admired him for his dedication, and it wasn't uncommon for Agent Jones to find emails on his base every day coming from various people asking if he wanted to 'get a drink', or 'have a catch up sometime'. He'd always politely decline their invitations; he'd stuck to belief that the less people got close to you, the better. That was one of the reasons he'd swept through clearance; he had no immediate family. Well, with the exception of his half-brother, Matthew, but he was in the same business, so he had nothing to worry about.

With another quick sip of the caffeine-induced liquid, he opened the Email. Reading the message quickly, he cursed internally.

_From: M_

_To: Agent Jones_

_Security Override: 1-ZD-8MLG0_

_Message: Come to my office immediately. Urgent. _

Without hesitation, he slammed his laptop shut, not caring in the slightest for its wellbeing and left the room, making sure to lock it with his security badge behind him. Quickly making his way across his pristine personal lobby, he greeted his secretary, Toris, with a hasty wave.

"Hey Toris!" He grinned.

The Lithuanian looked up from behind the glass desk with a small smile on his face.

"Good Morning Agent Jones. I trust you got the message?" He gestured towards the screen of his computer, where he had the same email on display.

Nodding enthusiastically, Alfred replied. "Yep! I'm just on my way ta see 'M' now! And seriously Toris, stop with the formalities! I've told you you can call me Alfred!" He rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation.

"Well, you better hurry then sir. As 'M' said, it's urgent. And you know I can't do that, it's against company protocol." He laughed nervously, tucking a stray strand of his brown hair behind his ear.

Alfred pouted. "Yeah, yeah. I know that, I just don't like it. It makes me sound old."

Toris smiled understandingly. "No worries. Anyhow, you might want to make haste sir."

"Got it!" And with one last smile in the secretary's direction, the American bolted out of the office.

Toris smiled. "Always a boy at heart~."

Once Alfred had left his lobby, he slowed his pace and walked briskly down the corridor, towards the classy elevator at the end. Pressing the button repeatedly, he did a once-over as he waited; not wanting to meet any of his superiors looking like he'd just escaped a crime scene. He smoothed out the newly-made wrinkles in his smart black suit, and made sure he could still see his reflection in his leather shoes. Straitening his blue tie (which matched his eyes), he entered the lift as the doors opened.

Stepping into the corner, and making sure to press a certain glowing blue button, he noticed that another individual was in there with him. The doors slid shut, unnoticed.

"Antonio!" He greeted, turning to the sun-kissed man, smiling cheerfully as he extended his hand.

The Spanish man took the hand, shaking it enthusiastically and meeting the other's smile with one of his own.

"_Buenos días_, Alfred!" He replied, the Spanish accent prominent in his voice. "It is a fine day_, ¿no?"_

The American closed his eyes as he lent his head against the back of the elevator, the happy grin still spread across his lips. "It sure is. Say,"- He opened his eyes and looked into the olive green ones of the Spaniard-"what have you been up to lately?"

Antonio laughed, his chocolate curls falling into his eyes slightly. "Oh, not much _amigo_. Just a few field missions here and there~. Mandatory stuff. Yourself~?"

Alfred ran a hand through his wheat hair as the other one was stuffed in his trouser pocket. "Ah. Not much either. But I just got an 'Urgent' from 'M', so I'm on my way to the top now."

He saw surprise light up the man's green orbs, and raised a brow. Before he could inquire, the tanned man spoke.

"No way~! I got an 'Urgent' too! That's where I'm headed for as well! Do you think this is a team mission?" He whispered the last part, excitement in his voice.

Alfred shrugged, but he couldn't help but feel a little excitement well up inside him too. He loved team missions! Well, as long as no one died; that was always a bit of a mood killer. "Who knows? 'M's a strange dude. God knows what he's planning." He smirked a little.

Antonio shrugged too. "_Si_, you got that right. But let's hope, eh~?" He let out a cheerful laugh.

At that moment, the lift stopped, and the doors opened swiftly to reveal a clean corridor stretched out before them, various doors lining both walls on the side. The duo walked together down the red carpeted floor, conversing happily. Their laughter bounced off the cream walls until they came to a halt before a black door. It had upon it a single glass plate with the letter 'M' in neat script. Behind the door, a thumping noise could be heard, and the two exchanged curious glances.

Taking a sharp inhale, and receiving an encouraging nod and smile from the Spaniard beside him, Alfred raised a hand and knocked twice.

"Come in." A sultry voice called, and Alfred opened the door sceptically. Needless to say, the two were not expecting the ruckus that was unfurling in the modern but stylish office before them.

"You take that back right now!" A crisp, German accented voice rang out.

"I will do no such thing, and you can't make me either!" Came a particularly boisterous voice. Danish, if Alfred wasn't mistaken.

"Very well then! You leave me no choice!...Hey! Who stole my gun?! I swear I will rip out-"

"P-please calm down Agent Zwigli! This is no time for guns now, eh?" Canadian this time.

"Haha! You are now helpless, Mister I-own-every-gun-shop-in-Switzerland! BOW DOWN TO THE KING OF SCANDINAVIA-Ouch!"

"Ah…~ I apologise for Larry…"

"Where the hell did that fuckin' cat come from?!"

"A-Agent Karpusi!"

"Duh…"

"Shut up you!"

"Why don't you shut the hell up for once? You're way too loud!"

"_Mon dieu~._ What a ruckus."

"Sh-shouldn't we stop them sir?"

"_Non Mathieu_, it's best to let their sexual tension release itself~."

"WHAT SEXUAL TENSION YOU PERVERT?!"

"AHA! I knew you had feelings for me! But who wouldn't, me being so awesome and-HELL! WHERE DID THE GROUP OF CATS COME FROM NOW?!"

"…It's called a clouder, actually…"

"What?!"

"…A group of cats is called a clouder…"

"_Non_~, it was called a glaring last time I checked…"

"…Both are correct…I suppose…"

"I DON'T GIVE A FLYING SHIT WHAT THEY'RE CALLED, NOW GET THEM OFF ME!"

"Tch. You should learn to shut your trap, Khøler."

Alfred and Antonio watched in amused concern at the scene. Agent Zwigli was currently pinning a 6ft Agent Khøler beneath him; who was screaming bloody murder at a 'clouder/glaring' of cats that were licking his face. The owner of said cats, Agent Karpusi, was also on the floor, but in a less violent position; he was sleeping. Alfred's half-brother, Agent Williams was desperately trying to separate the two fighting Europeans whilst conversing with the last person in there.

M. Also known as Francis Bonnefoy.

The duo watched the scenario for a few minutes longer before the American decided he was bored. How to get their attention…?

"Holy shit dudes! The building's on fire!"

…

"YOU COULDN'T BEAT ME!"

"Oh really?! I could beat you with a soldering iron shoved up my arse!"

"Well we could put that to the test_. Ja_?"

"BRING IT ON ZWIGGERS!"

"MY NAME IS ZWIGLI. ZWIGLI!"

Alfred turned back to his Spanish colleague. "Well, it's reassuring to know that they care so much for company property and general well -being…" He remarked, sarcasm lining his American lilt.

Antonio nodded, watching the fight with a sense of dread. The two Agents, Zwigli and Khøler, were well known for their intense dislike towards one another. But it wasn't too surprising really, seeing as it took an awful lot of self-control to get along with the Swiss, and an inhumane amount of patience to get along with the Dane. There was just no way those two could co-operate.

"Right. I'm going to need to take another approach…" Alfred's handsome face was pulled into a frown for a few moments before springing up into its usual lopsided grin.

"The Russians are invading!"

…

-"TAKE THIS CHEESE EATER!"

"Care for some wine _mon cheri_?"

"N-no thanks…"

"…If only I was a cat…"

"You and your damned cats-**shit**!"

"Aha! A real agent would never turn his back on the enemy, you un-evolved idiot!"

"DAMN YOU!"

…

"Again…good to know we can rely on these guys when a crisis hits…" Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, beginning to lose his temper. Which was worrying, as that wasn't something that happened often. He turned to the currently comatose Agent next to him with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"You got any ideas man?"

Antonio shook his head slowly, still engrossed in the occurring fight. Alfred sighed.

"Fuck it."

Shoving the Spaniard into the room, the American slammed the office door shut with such force that it nearly fell right off its hinges. It also resulted in a terrifically loud 'BOOM' resounding through the room, making each and every occupant jump and look up instantaneously. Six pairs of eyes were fixated onto the ticked off American, wondering what his next move would be. Alfred glared.

"I thought there was an 'urgent' call." His eyes now turned onto Francis, narrowing ever so slightly. "This is no time for arguing!"

After a few minutes of awkward and guilty silence, M coughed into his hand.

"Ah. But of course, _mon cheri_ Alfred is correct. This is indeed not _les temps, oui_?"

And as if a switch had been flicked, Agents Khøler and Zwigli got up from the floor, patting off non-existent dust from their suits and standing up side by side attentively, although still exchanging dirty looks. Agent Williams stepped out from his hiding place behind one of M's exotic potted plants to join the other two. After being woken from his nap by Antonio, Agent Karpusi and the Spaniard also lined up with the others, Alfred stepping in too. The six stood in front of a large, polished oak desk, standing right in the centre of the room upon a soft, deep mauve carpet. It was obvious that Francis had re-done the interior of the office.

Said Frenchman was now standing up behind the desk, his usual flirty, flamboyant expression replaced by that of business. This was another side to the man, the one that only came out when serious matters beckoned. His light blue eyes were darkened in determination, his golden blonde hair perfectly brushed so the curls fell neatly to his shoulders. His suit was a perfect fit, giving his posture elegance alongside dominance. His pretty and youthful face was stern.

The six agents in the room stood still, hands clasped in front of them awaiting their orders.

M flipped his silky hair over his shoulder and cleared his throat.

"_Bon_. I suppose you're wondering why I called you here on an 'Urgent'_, non_?"

The six nodded, eyes all trained on their boss.

"Well, I'm afraid to tell you that there is an issue with our security system." All eyes widened. They knew what that meant; their government's secrets were being hacked into. Nothing was more important to the CIA than security. It kept all their work safe; people couldn't stop them, as long as the correct barriers were kept up.

Before any of them got the chance to voice their thoughts, Francis carried on.

"It appears there's been a breach." A gasp came from Matthew, who spoke.

"But sir, surely not! We have high level security systems; the best in the country. Hell, the best in the world!" His voice was high with panic and desperation. None of them could believe it. Throughout all the years that CIA had operated, nobody had ever succeeded in breaking into their databases. Ever.

"_Je sais_. And I'm very distressed to have to tell you this, but all your clearances are perfect; I know I can trust you all…" M said.

Alfred was rooted to the spit in shock. This couldn't be happening. What on earth was going on?!

"Wait! I don't understand. Surely you aren't just going to say this and then dismiss us? Why did you tell us this?" He demanded.

M smiled bitterly. "I understand your turmoil, Jones. But perhaps if you allow me to continue you will find out…?"

The American blushed in embarrassment. "Sorry M. Continue."

"How gracious of you." The Frenchman cleared his throat. "Now, as I was saying, there has been a breach. We all know that this is unacceptable, and is a fatal mistake on our part to not set the security system's barriers higher. Regardless, I've called you here for a very good reason." He smirked.

"We believe we have a lead to the culprit(s)."

The entire room was silent as they let the news sink in. It was short lasting though.

"Are you sure?" Agent Zwigli asked, his eyebrows rose quizzically.

M shot the Swiss a glare.

"_Bien sûr_! I do not make these sorts of mistakes. Unless… you doubt me?" His face became expressionless as he stared down the blonde agent.

"Tch."

Taking this remark as an apology, M continued.

"So, we've got leads. They're faint, but traces remain. I had Agent Van Bock lock onto them earlier this morning." He was cut off by a snort.

"What, so the bastards that did this forgot that we could track 'em? Not exactly the smartest, are they?" Matthias sniggered, but stopped when he received a jab in the ribs from the Canadian.

"Not at all. They had put up some very impressive codes, but they underestimated us. Or rather, they underestimated Van Bock." M replied haughtily.

Alfred jumped as the Greek agent next to him piped up. "One minute…when did you realise they'd gotten into our system…? You said Eduard found a trace this morning, but…" He trailed off, his head drooping as he fought off sleep.

M shook his head sympathetically. That boy just couldn't stay awake, could he? If he wasn't such a good agent, he would've chucked him out years ago.

"About that, Eduard can explain when we get down there."

All heads turned back to M. "Where're we going?" asked Antonio.

"Down to the 3rd floor. Where the main IT room is." And with that, M walked out of the room. Shrugging to the others, Alfred followed after, flanked by the rest of them.

Matthew grabbed onto his brothers wrist, causing him to turn.

"Oh, hey bro! Sup?" He grinned. The Canadian frowned, letting go of the appendage.

"Really? All the governments' secrets are being hacked into and you still can't be bothered to be serious?" He asked, his quiet voice laced with disapproval. Alfred sighed.

"What do you want?" He huffed.

"I-what do you think is going to happen?" Matthew whispered. His eyes were wide and earnest behind his own wire glasses.

Alfred seemed to ponder on this thought as the group stopped outside the doors to the lift.

"Hmm. Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think we're going to the IT lab." He said, earning himself a smack from the shy boy.

"You know what I meant!" Said boy muttered.

"Ouch! Geez Mattie, you sure know how to sock a punch, huh?" The purple-eyed agent glared at him. "But, on a serious note, I think we're going to find out what's really going on now. Ya know, the people behind it and stuff." He ended with a lazy shrug, pushing up his glasses with his index finger-a habit he'd use when he was stressed.

Matthew opened his mouth in reply before he was cut off.

"Oi! Glasses one and two, do ya wanna walk down five flights of stairs or not?" A loud voice interrupted them. Both turned to see the other five in the elevator, M's finger hovering over a luminous button.

"He's right. Are you coming?" The Frenchman asked, a playful smirk on his face.

No one was really sure how the Frenchman got the job of M, but it would be a mistake to say he was bad at it. Despite his relaxed personality, he was the epitome of a serious undercover agent when the time called. Yet it confused the others how he found the time to smirk whilst they were in a very serious situation.

The two nodded before joining the others in the lift. It was large, and there was more than enough space to accommodate the group, but unfortunately for the Dane, it wasn't so big that the two brothers couldn't smack him.

"Ouch!"

"Don't call us 'glasses one' and 'glasses two'." The Canadian brother hissed.

Alfred chuckled at his brother's antics, shooting an apologetic glance at the Nordic man. Seeing his brother like this made him remember that one Christmas when he'd received a hockey stick for the first time. He rubbed his head subconsciously, trying to forget all the times he'd irritated his brother whilst said Canadian had his trusty stick within an arm's reach. Damn that stick. He winced.e Hhh Matthias grinned.

"I suppose I deserved that one." He smiled at Matthew. "Sorry dude."

Said Canadian rolled his eyes, moving to stand at the other end of the enclosed space.

Luckily for all of them, the doors soon opened, and they all made their way down the hallway. Stopping in front of a large door to the right, Francis turned to them.

"Do not touch anything unless I say so, is that clear? I'm aware that you're all fully capable of working the machines in here, but let's leave that to those who get paid for it, _oui_?" They all nodded in unison, having gone through the same lecture every time they set foot into the room.

And with that affirmation, Francis swiped his card over the scanner to the left lf the door, and it made a loud, electronic sound before it clicked. They all proceeded into the room, letting their eyes adjust to the dim light.

The room was entirely black, no windows and no light bulbs, but it was clear that it was enormous. Rows and rows of glass desks were lined with various blinking machines and computers, the bright screens being the only light source in the place. You had to watch your footing carefully as to not trip on any of the many wires connecting said electronics to the mains. Not to mention the people bustling about in there, talking into headsets or typing out codes furiously into laptops. On the wall opposite to them, on the very far side of the room, hung a large protective screen with wires hooking it up to a small laptop that was residing on a certain Estonian's lap.

"Ah! Van Bock!" A few people in the room turned briefly, only to nod in acknowledgement to M or the agents before returning to their previous activities. Chatter filled the busy room, but the atmosphere felt wrong. People were typing more vigorously than before, and the projected screen was lit up with numbers that were quickly changing into different ones frantically. Codes, no doubt, but they kept swiftly changing, aggravating a few technicians who were cursing into their attachable phones.

Agent Eduard Van Bock looked up swiftly, his nimble fingers pausing and hovering over the keys from his desk at the front of the room. Seeing M, his face morphed from that of concentration into relief.

"M! You're here, okay, one minute-" He spoke into his own head set quickly. A few seconds later a man ran up to him, and the two had a brief discussion before Eduard passed over the laptop and got up. Running a hand through his cropped blonde hair, the Estonian walked over to the group by the door, offering a small but weary smile as his hands tightened over a black clipboard he was clutching to his chest.

"Hello all." They all smiled back, sympathetic towards the poor man. He'd obviously been up all night, if the dark circles under his eyes and the stress lines on his forehead were anything to go by.

"Greetings Agent. I trust you've got all the suspects files?" M got straight down to business.

Eduard nodded. "Yes, right here." He lifted up the clipboard, revealing six large manila envelopes attached to it. M nodded in approval.

"_Bon_. So, if you would do the pleasures on filling them in on their mission? Only I have an important meeting to attend to with one of the President's advisors in half an hour." He gestured towards the confused and slightly impatient group.

"Of course sir." And with one last reassuring nod towards the Estonian man, M left the room. Said Estonian stood in front of the others nervously. He wasn't a fan of standing in front of six strong-looking men. With a cough, he began.

"G-good day gentlemen. Am I to assume you've heard of our latest crisis?"

The men nodded, an expectant look in their eyes.

"Alright then. There's more you should know. The hackers entered our system at precisely 04:38 this morning, but if you look at figures, we can deduce that they've been trying since 17:00 yesterday evening. Now, currently I have my best team working on the barrier system in order to stop the assailant from getting too much information. I think you'd be relieved to know that we're succeeding so far."

A huge wave of relief swept over the six. Alfred smirked a little internally; '_take that Mr Intruder! Thought that you could get past the CIA, did you?'_

Seeing the positive reaction, Van Bock smiled weakly before carrying on.

"However, we've also found some codes that trace specifically back to the hacker. It took us a while, but we can say with confidence that we've tracked the area down." He paused, a slight frown forming on his pale features.

The Agents were practically on the edge of their metaphorical seats. They needed to know.

"So? Who was it?!" Agent Carriedo chirped.

Inhaling sharply, the Estonian replied.

"Well, the traces lead to MI6."

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A sharp tapping noise filled the spacious office, nimble fingers moving delicately over the keyboard. The rain pelted mercilessly against the window hidden behind black blinds. Numerous curses joined the irritating taps in the air, a thick British accent prominent in them. The owner of the voice sighed. It way too early to be in work; it was 5 O' clock for Christ's sakes! Acidic green orbs glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen on his MacBook. Make that 05:01am. Damn his incurable insomnia! With one last curse, the Brit closed the document he'd been writing and leaned back in his plush chair. Rubbing his eyes with his palms he groaned quietly. He got bored sitting there after a few minutes and decided to see if the rain had died down a little. It was a bugger getting to work in that downpour, he could assure you.

Standing by the window which was behind his desk, he lifted up the custom-made blinds and looked outside. Nope. No improvement at all since 3am that morning. The rain still seemed content of pouring out from the heavens at a colossal speed, preventing the Briton from seeing much. He could just about make out the grey, faded blur of some nearby buildings, and the faint glow of various traffic lights and streetlamps far below, but that was about it. The deep grey sky sheltered the bleary Monday morning in London. With a dejected sigh, he pulled his hand away, letting the blinds fall back just in time to hear three knocks ring out. With a smile-the first one that morning-he answered.

"Come in."

The door opened steadily to reveal a short, Japanese man carrying a dainty tea tray in his pale hands. A friendly but small smile adorned the man's face, framed by neatly cut black hair; quite the opposite of the Brit's.

"Ah! Kiku, Good Morning!" He sat back down behind his desk again.

"Good Morning to you Kirkland san, I trust you're well?" The Japanese secretary replied earnestly, placing the tray carefully upon the desk, wary not to spill any on various documents.

Agent Kirkland sighed. "As well as one can be in such pessimistic weather, I suppose. Not to mention the work doesn't get any smaller." He thanked Kiku with a silent nod. Said man stood back and watched as the elder prepared his tea just as he liked it: no sugar, but with two creams. Stirring the beverage with a silver spoon, he took a sip. Agent Honda watched in amusement as the stressful look on the Briton's face was replaced by that of bliss.

You couldn't separate a Brit from his tea, that was for sure.

"_Hai_. It seems that a storm has hit us. I hope it passes soon." The Japanese man carried on the conversation politely. It was routine now; Arthur would arrive at the lobby at exactly 04:55 every morning, where they'd exchange pleasantries before the Brit would wonder into his office and send updates to M on various missions. Then he'd request tea at exactly 05:05, which he, Agent Kiku Honda, would happily bring in. They'd converse more before he was dismissed to do other things, and the day would progress from there.

Sometimes it would be different though, for instance, Arthur may get a request from M to go out on the field, Kiku occasionally accompanying him. Arthur was always M's first choice when it came down to the really serious matters. Well, either Arthur or Agent Bondevik. Those two had worked together for five years, sometimes with the help from their colleague, Agent Lupsei; but that was usually reserved for the team trips.

But it seemed like today wasn't one of those days, so he could afford to relax a little.

Agent Kirkland sniffed a little. "As do I. I almost crashed this morning! Now, usually I would walk -as it's only 15 minutes away from my front door- but that was not an option for even me! I couldn't see a bloody centimetre in front of me, and then this ruddy huge truck just came out of nowhere and almost writ me off! Can you believe the cheek of some people-"

Honda zoned out, letting the Agent release all his stress and pent in anger in the mini rant. His mind wondered if he'd get a break some time that day, and if he'd get the chance to read a new doujinshi that his Chinese cousin had sent him through the post just the other day…

He was pulled out of his thoughts as a pale hand waved in front of his eyes. Blinking, the Japanese man apologised.

"A-ah. So sorry Arthur san, I seemed to have zoned out. What were you saying?"

Kirkland merely chuckled. "No worries, nothing to get your knickers in a twist about lad. I was simply asking a request." His emerald orbs bored into vibrant brown ones.

"Of course. How can I help?"

Taking another sip of tea, the Brit answered. "I was wondering if I could send you the document I wrote on the Ugandan mission of 2011 for you to fax off." He placed the now empty cup on the tray with a satisfied sigh.

Kiku nodded, the delicate smile still on display. "Of course. Who shall be the recipients of such a document?" He asked, his voice warm.

Arthur tapped his chin with his index finger in thought. "Hmm…Well, M, of course. I would also deem it wise for it to be sent to both Vargas', Agent Bondevik and Agent Lupsei too as they were involved. But also Beilschmidt; he sent in details." He murmured.

The Japanese man bowed. "Right away sir. Have you finished with your tea?"

"Hm?" Emerald eyes widened. "Oh. The tea. Yes, yes, thank you very much Honda." He smiled graciously.

The smile was returned as he picked up the tray. "It was my pleasure Kirkland san. Send me the document when you're ready. Good day." And with one last bow, he left the room.

Arthur returned his eyes to the screen of his laptop, grabbing his reading glasses and shoving them on his face, waiting for the screen to become clearer. As soon as it was in focus, he immediately emailed the document to his secretary before leaning back in his chair. He had nothing to do. Not that he was complaining of course, Lord no! It was just…unusual.

Running a small hand through his choppy, sandy blonde hair, he released a yawn. He'd only slept for an hour that night. Not nearly enough sleep for a man, insomniac or not. He really needed to sort that problem out. According to his doctor, his lack of sleep since his childhood was affecting his health, and was most likely the reason he was so short and thin. Arthur had rebuked to this; he was not that scrawny! And it certainly didn't affect his strength.

Despite his pale and delicate frame, the Brit was surprisingly agile and strong. He was one of the top agents at MI6, and was always first choice on the field, which actually got a bit tiring after a while. But nethertheless, Arthur loved his job. He was a British citizen through and through. Hell, he even had the stereotypical large eyebrows which he'd inherited from his father! He tried to dispel that thought from his head, a nerve popping when he remembered his childhood days; being pushed around by his brothers and various bullies. Arthur liked to think he was a handsome-ish guy, only 23 years old and already a celebrity within the organisation. He was always dressed up in his best suits, his shoes constantly immaculate and his posture graceful yet impressive. The only downfall in his opinion was his hair; the mound of straw-coloured strands that would never calm down, no matter how many times you tried to comb it. Many years of various hairstyles hadn't paid off. It would always be scruffy, and he detested that. But that wouldn't stop him! He was athletic, determined and stubborn; nothing could break him. He hadn't gotten through his rebellious teen years for nothing!

He moaned as he felt a headache approach; a common aftereffect he had after a sleepless night. Taking off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to soothe the pounding. It was going to be a long day.

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Silence filled the air between the conversing group. The only sounds that could be heard were the whirring of the high-tech equipment around them with the occasional business chatter erupting from an agent into an ear piece.

Alfred was the first to snap out of his reverie.

"WHAT?!" He yelled. It would be an understatement to say he was shocked and just a little betrayed.

Eduard jumped at the volume of the American's voice.

"I-It's MI6, sir. The traces are originating from their h-hideout." He stammered nervously.

Taking a deep breath, counting up to ten, and releasing said breath, Alfred spoke up again, this time quieter. "No, what I meant was, how could they do this? Aren't they our Allies?"

Still shaking a little, the Estonian technician answered. "Well, in some respects yes. However you can't really trust anybody, can you?"

Alfred closed his eyes, letting the Estonian's voice fill his ears. He was right. You can't trust anybody these days. Anybody. It seemed as though the others had got over the initial shock too, as Khølher spoke up.

"Well, what do we do?" He asked solemnly. All eyes stared at Eduard, anticipating his answer. With an awkward cough, said man looked at the small pile of envelopes in his arms.

"Okay. In these envelopes holds all the information necessary on the prime suspects of the federal crime. Each one has a different suspect in it. I'm about to hand you all an envelope at random, and your jobs are to discreetly 'tag' the individual you receive. Clear?"

The group listened attentively before nodded in affirmation.

"So you want us to follow whatever dude or lady we get?" The Danish agent asked, mirth apparent in his tone.

"Yes." Eduard nodded.

"You're to familiarise yourself with your 'partner' by reading the entire document until it's memorised before burning it. Understood? Simply preliminary precautions I assure you. Your private jet will leave at approximately 15:00 this afternoon, and your individual cars will be waiting outside your homes to take you to the airfield at precisely 14:20. Don't miss them. Until then, read up and pack your belongings."

All six nodded to show their attention and understanding.

"Now I'll hand out the envelopes. Please don't open them until you're back in your private offices for safety."

They all nodded again. With a quick glance at the group, he handed over a long brown envelope to each agent. Alfred scanned his over quickly. It clearly held A4 pages, and he couldn't help but feel ever so slightly excited to see who he'd got. These were his favourite types of missions after all; group ones which had lots of action.

Once they all had an envelope clutched in their hands, they were dismissed with a brief 'Good bye and Good luck'.

**Aaaand that's it for this chapter~! I hope you like it so far, and I would've continued writing, but it's late here and I'm shattered. **

**As a side note, Agent Lupsei is Romania:3 You know, with the 'Magic Trio' and all~. And as for all the translations, they're perfectly self-explanatory, no? If you still don't understand them, I am disappointed in you~. **

**Thank you for reading this, frankly, crappy chapter!:3 I hope you stay with me~**

**Review if you can be bothered, as they're greatly appreciated ;')**

**-TheSpanishBanana**


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